False Assumptions
by Locard
Summary: GS,BS friendship, casefile,. Sara decides her life has to change following the events of Bloodlines.
1. Prologue

Title: False Assumptions

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI, but I do fully own up to my obsession with it.

Spoilers: Up to the end of season 4

Author's Notes: This is a WIP. It is both GSR and a casefile. Other than one short challenge fic I posted a few days ago, this is the first fic I have ever written, so be warned that it probably isn't very good. Thanks goes to spunkysquared for her work as a beta; any remaining spelling or grammar mistakes are mine.

* * *

**_Prologue_**

The arrow was almost silent as it moved through the air; its flight steady, true, and altogether too short as its forward movement became halted upon contact with a resistant solid body.

Human flesh parted under the forceful intrusion of the foreign object. Muscles and ligaments gave way, slowing the progress of the arrow even as they broke under its onslaught.

Coming to a rest, the arrow became like a sponge, its wooden shaft reddening as it soaked up blood freely flowing from torn vessels.

The man staggered back a few steps, his eyes widening in surprise before downturning to see, protruding from his chest, the shaft of an arrow. Uncomprehending, the man stood immobile, watching as a rich crimson stain blossomed outward from the shaft to darken his otherwise pristine white shirt.

Stupidly, the man raised his hands in front of his body, almost as if to defend himself from that which had just happened.

Almost of their own volition, his eyes followed the line of the arrow, out from where it pierced his body and past its cheerfully colored feathers.

Slowly his head rose until he was looking in the direction from which the arrow had come. His still dumbfounded brain slowly processed the fact that there was nobody there.

He blinked.

The shock of not seeing anyone cleared much of the fog that had descended over his mind.

He blinked again.

Looking back down, the man grasped the thin arrow with both hands. He pulled the shaft of the arrow outwards, its smooth surface easily slipping past the torn tissues lubricated with his own blood. A slurping sound ensued, followed by a short lived, low-pitched whine, reminiscent of air leaking from a tire.

The arrow now free in his hands, he briefly glanced at it before dropping it at his feet. Turning around, the man staggered back in the direction from which he had originally been walking.

Making it only a step or two, he was again stopped short.

Pain was exploding from his chest, had been since the shock of the attack had past. But now something was different, something deeper inside himself. Something was changing, or had been changed, and not for the better.

He tried to take a breath. He couldn't.

A sharp coppery taste became detectable at the back of his throat. The taste rose up his throat, higher and higher, before spilling into the cavern of his mouth.

The man involuntarily started to gag before he regained control enough so that he could simply spit out what was in his mouth. A mixture of blood and saliva hit the dry dirt in front of him, soaking into the arid ground immediately.

The man staggered half a step more before dropping heavily to his knees.

His left hand moved up to cover his mouth as he coughed weakly. Pulling his hand away, the man barely noticed it being smearing with blood before he fell headfirst onto the ground. His chest shuttered another few times before all movement stopped.

As the man's struggle for breath and life ceased, silence reigned down over the clearing.

One minute passed.

Two minutes passed.

After a full ten minutes had passed, the crunch of dirt under the unyielding tread of a man's work boots sounded. Closer and closer, the steps approached the dead man.

A hand sheathed in a thick latex glove reached down and felt for the lack of a pulse on the collapsed man's throat. Apparently satisfied, the killer straightened, only to bend down to the dead man once again in order to remove the wallet bulging from the back right pocket of the man's jeans.

The killer paused and thought for a moment. Swiftly coming to some internal conclusion, he opened the wallet and transferred the money contained within to his own pockets. Turning back to retrieve his arrow, the killer absentmindedly dropped the now cash depleted wallet at the foot of its former owner.

Picking up his arrow, the killer carried it several feet away before bending down to stick it point first into the ground. Reaching into a pocket, he calmly pulled out a small container of lighter fluid along with a barbeque lighter. Quickly dousing the arrow with the fluid and setting it afire, the killer stood back as flames consumed the arrow.

Soon all that remained of the deadly arrow was a metal point surrounded by a scattering of ashes. Pocketing the point, the killer casually strolled away, never even glancing back to look at the dead man.

As he walked, a wide grin spread across the killer's face. After all, the weather was warm and the sun was shining.

It was a beautiful start to a perfect day.


	2. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Just remember, this is a GSR story. Thanks again to spunkysquared for betaing. Please let me know what you think.

* * *

**_Chapter 1_**

Sara pulled up at the crime scene right behind Grissom. Parking her Tahoe next to his, she paused for a moment and took a deep breath before reaching for her silver evidence case that was lying on the passenger seat beside her.

She was nervous. Tonight marked her first shift back after her sudden self-imposed vacation that had followed her near DUI.

For one month she distanced herself as far away as she could from her job. She had gone to Tamales Bay, visiting her parents at their B & B. As her return flight had descended into Vegas, Sara had been startled to discover that that had felt more like coming home than walking into her childhood bedroom had. This feeling had motivated Sara into exploring more of Las Vegas. Over the years she had been exposed to the seedier side of Vegas life as a CSI. Now Sara finally took the time to see it properly in the bright light of day. She surprised herself by enjoying it.

Sara had also started seeing a counselor upon her return to Vegas, partially because Grissom had gently suggested it to her when she had made her vacation request on the otherwise silent ride to her apartment from the police station.

Sara knew she didn't have a drinking problem, she had a life problem. Her counselor had helped her to see that her life had become stagnant. She lived in a perpetual state of waiting, waiting for the day when Grissom would finally turn to her free of the inhibitions that were preventing him from acting on his feelings for her. Her counselor had made her see that she was putting her life on hold for a day that may never come and that it was killing her spirit. Sara decided then and there to take her life back. Heck, she had even gone so far as to enroll herself in a cooking class at one of the local community colleges, hoping to garner an interest outside law enforcement.

Now, with less than a month having passed since she had made her decision, Sara felt good about herself and proud of how far she had come in so short a time. But while she felt good, in fact better than she had in a long time, and knew she was ready to return to work, her uncertainty over the reception she would get at CSI was unsettling. Not only did she have to deal with reaction to her new outlook on life, but she also had no idea how far the news about her little run in with a Breathalyzer had spread.

Thankfully, on this her first night back she had been called in straight to a scene and had as yet to put in an appearance at the lab. Unfortunately, it appeared that she would be partnered with Grissom. While she loved working with him, her decision to move beyond her feelings for him had yet to be tested by his presence. At least she should have no problems while busy processing the scene. It was later, back at the lab, when his close proximity would be most likely to test her resolve.

Slowly exhaling to calm her nerves, Sara climbed out of her Tahoe.

As Sara made her way towards him, Grissom's eyes slowly traveled up her body before meeting her own. His gaze held concern for her, but her calm exterior obviously passed his silent appraisal as all he said when she stopped in front of him was, "Good to go?"

Sara nodded slightly as she said, "Good to go."

Grissom searched her eyes momentarily before turning on his heels and making his way to Brass, Sara walking at his side.

"What do we have, Jim?"

"Male DB. Name's Brian Oliver. Hikers found him about two hours ago." Brass led the two scientists down through the woods towards where David was waiting with the body.

David's face lit up when he saw Sara approach with the two men. A blush stained his cheeks as he shyly smiled. "Hi Sara, I'm glad you're back. You're presence has been sorely missed."

Sara smiled back at David while Brass rolled his eyes at Grissom. Grissom cleared his throat.

David was flustered. "Ah...Um...looks like a single gunshot wound to the chest. No exit wound, the slug's still in there, somewhere." David rolled the body over as he talked, demonstrating his words.

Sara noticed a touch of blood on the corner of the dead man's mouth. "Trail of blood coming from his mouth. From the position of the wound, it's possible the bullet punctured a lung."

Grissom nodded.

Brass grinned. "Nice catch. Good to know that all your brains didn't turn to mush while you were gone."

That earned him a light punch on the arm from Sara, which surprised both Brass and Grissom. "You wish. If they had, I'd have to give up being a CSI and apply to the LVPD instead!"

Brass' grin grew wider as he placed his hands over his heart. "Ouch! That hurts! Grissom, you better keep an eye on her tonight; there's no telling what trouble she'll get herself into when she's this feisty."

The corners of Grissom's mouth curled up in a smirk but his eyes were serious as they met Sara's gaze. "Don't worry," he murmured, "I plan on staying close."

Sara's breath hitched at his words and she had to force herself to look away. She had come too far and worked too hard in the past month to allow herself to be drawn back into her old pattern of finding deeper meanings behind his words. Intentional or not, existent or not, any deeper meanings didn't matter. She had made her choice; she was moving on and taking what was left of her battered heart with her.

Sara realized that Brass had started talking again.

"The hikers that found him? They were actually a gaggle of Girl Guides headed for a weekend of camping. Unless they shot him cause he wouldn't buy any cookies, I'm guessing they're clear. We took their statements and sent them back to the station; parents are coming to pick them up."

"That's rough," said Sara.

Brass nodded, agreeing. "Yeah. Listen, I got the vic's address from his wallet, which, by the way, had been emptied of cash. I'm going to head over there now, see if anyone's home. I'll let you know." Brass turned towards his car.

"Hey Brass," Sara called, stopping him and turning him back. "Umm...," Sara glanced around and found that the only other people in hearing range were Grissom and David, and they were concentrated on the body. "You got any plans for dinner tomorrow night?"

Grissom's head snapped around to look at Sara. Brass, startled by the unexpected question, shook his head no.

"Uh, you want to have dinner with me?" Sara asked.

Brass shot a quick look at Grissom, who was still staring open mouthed at Sara, before replying. "Sure. Dinner's good...uh...Should I pick you up?"

"No, that's okay. Why don't you come by my place at six and I'll cook."

"Deal."

As Brass got in his car, Sara turned back to Grissom. "So, where do you want me to start?" She started to scan the crime scene with her eyes.

Grissom hesitated, then looked down towards the body. He promptly met David's eyes as he looked up at Grissom. Realizing he had been caught watching Grissom's reaction to Sara's dinner invite, David flinched and averted his eyes.

Grissom clenched his jaw. Looking anywhere but at Sara, he said, "Start with the perimeter and work your way in. I'm going back with the body. Come find me when you make it back to the lab."

Now Sara stared at Grissom in disbelief. After a moment of speechlessness she stuttered, "Wha...What? Grissom, you can't possibly expect me to process this whole scene by myself. It's enormous! We don't even know what direction the shot came from! I'd be here forever!"

"You can handle it. I'll send Greg."

"Greg !?!"

"He can help with the collection. I'll tell him to bring a metal detector to search for any shell casings."

Sara glared at Grissom. "Sure. Fine. Whatever."

Grissom finally turned to look at Sara as she stocked away, her anger at him apparent by the tight clench of her fists. Stared after her for a moment before muttering to David, "I'll catch up with you back at autopsy."

David was left alone with the dead man. He watched Grissom until his Tahoe disappeared into the night.

Shaking his head slightly, David turned back to the body. The dead were definitely much easier to understand than the living.


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks to spunkysquared for her skills as a beta. And thanks for all your kind reviews.

* * *

**_Chapter 2_**

The doors of the autopsy bay were flung inwards as Grissom forcefully made his way into the room. Inside he found Doc Robbins conducting his external exam of the DB from the woods, Brian Oliver. David, Robbins trusty sidekick, was standing nearby recording the Doctor's observations on a clipboard.

Grissom's long stride ate up the ground between the door and the autopsy table. "What have you got?"

Robbins was astonished. "What have I got? Almost nothing. The body just got here. I haven't even cut into him yet!"

Grissom glared at his watch and flexed his jaw, obviously ill tempered. "What _do_ you have?" Grissom bit off.

The good doctor tilted his head in puzzlement as he looked at Grissom. "Well, based on lividity and liver temp, I'd place time of death about nine or ten hours ago. Other than the bullet hole in his chest, there doesn't seem to be any other overt signs of trauma."

"That's it? That's all?"

"For now. Gil, give me at least a few more hours, then I should be able to tell you something more concrete."

Grissom sighed, obviously frustrated at having to wait for answers. "Alright. How about his clothes?"

"That I _can_ give you. They're bagged, tagged, and by the door."

With a sharp, short nod of his head, Grissom turned and walked briskly to the door. He grabbed the bagged clothes and quickly signed the release form before continuing on out the door.

Doctor Robbins gazed thoughtfully at the door Grissom had just disappeared through. "I wonder what's eating him?"

David briefly looked up from his clipboard and said, "Sara asked Captain Brass over to dinner at her place tomorrow night."

Doc Robbins nodded his head before turning his attention back to the dead man. "Yeah, that would do it."


	4. Chapter 3

**__**

Chapter 3

"Hey guys."

Greg bounced into the break room and headed straight for the coffee pot, pouring two cups. Catherine and Nick were seated across from one another at the table. Between them, in the center of the table, was a large stack of case files that they were both going through, one at a time.

"Nice to see you finally decided to show up," Catherine muttered as she closed one file and reached for another.

"Yeah, Greggo," put in Nick, "where have you been all night? You didn't try that liquid latex again, did you? Man, once you develop a sensitivity to that stuff, stop using it. Didn't you say that's what that sweet little old lady nurse at the ER told you, last time?" Both he and Catherine grinned, their humor enhanced by the fact that they were both well acquainted with Mabel, grandmother of eight.

"Funny," Greg said sarcastically. "And wrong. Besides, they've come out with this new edible stuff; it's guaranteed not to cause a rash. Comes in five tropical flavours"

Catherine rolled her eyes at Nick. Nick, however, didn't notice as he thoughtfully digested this new info. "Really?"

Catherine rolled her eyes again, this time at the file in front of her as she resumed reading. "Down boy."

Nick flushed slightly with embarrassment as Greg chuckled, making his way over to the table with his two coffee cups. Sitting down next to Nick, Greg finally answered the initial question asked of him. "I was working, just not here. I was processing a scene. A 419. Dead body in the woods." At this both Catherine and Nick looked up at Greg, their own case that night having been a B & E. Turned out, guy came home from a business trip and when he realized he had lost his key, decided to break a window. Neighbor called it in.

Greg, finding himself with a captive audience, rose to the occasion to add the piece du resistance: "With Sara."

"Sara?"

"Sara's back?"

"Yeah, she's back," said Greg, smiling happily. "Isn't it great? I wonder why Grissom didn't mention it last night?"

Both Greg and Nick looked towards Catherine. She shrugged her shoulders. "Beats me. He never even mentioned she was going on vacation until she was already gone."

"Sara never said anything either, Nick added. "One night she's grabbing a couple of beers with me and Warrick, the next she's gone. You'd have thought she'd have told us."

Everyone paused for a moment in silent contemplation. Then Nick hesitantly suggested, "You don't think Grissom made her take the time off, do you? That she couldn't tell us about it because she didn't know about it?"

"He can't do that, can he?" questioned Greg. "He can't just make one of us take our holidays, can he?"

Catherine nodded. "Sure he can, he's the supervisor. You know Sara, she never takes time off. Sooner of later human resources would be after Grissom to enforce vacation time."

"You think that's what happened?" asked Nick.

"It would explain why Sara never said anything. It also explains why Grissom's been acting like a bear with a sore paw all night. He's probably worried about Sara being pissed at him now that she's back."

"Grissom's the one who called me to go work the scene with Sara," said Greg. "When I got there, Sara said Grissom had gone with the body."

Catherine nodded, evidently believing that this supported her theory. "He probably came back here to hide from her."

"Where is Sara?" asked Nick.

Greg answered, "She had to drop some evidence off at trace, then she was heading this way."

Just as Greg finished, Sara came breezing in the break room door. "Hey guys." Sara grabbed the coffee cup Greg held out for her. Sitting beside Greg at the head of the table, she took a deep swallow of the bitter brew. "Ah...thanks, Greg! I needed this. So...did you guys miss me?"

"You kidding?" said Nick, grinning, "Greg's been driving us all nuts. He's constantly asking 'What do you think Sara's doing right now? When do you think she's coming back? Do you think she misses me?'"

Catherine added, her voice serious but her smile wide, "All the lab rats have been moping around here for weeks. It's been damn depressing, actually. I'm glad you're back."

"So am I," said Nick.

"Me too." This came from Warrick, who snuck in the door behind Sara to give her a hug from behind. "Damn girl, we've all missed you. It's about time you came back."

Sara looked around the table at her friends and coworkers, all of whom were nodding their heads in agreement with Warrick's statement. Her heart swelled and she couldn't hold back the blush that rose in her cheeks. "Thanks, guys. It's great to be back." Sara quickly gulped down the last of her coffee and stood up. "Now, I better go find Grissom, see if we can solve ourselves a murder."

Sara was almost out the door when she stopped and turned around. "Oh, hey, guys? If you're interested, breakfast at the diner after shift. I'm buying." Without waiting to hear their responses, Sara spun around and took off down the hall towards Grissom's office.

Catherine, Nick, and Greg all looked at one another. "Well," said Catherine, "she seems to be in a good mood."

Nick shook his head. "A weird mood, more like it. Sara never offers to pay. She rarely even comes with us anymore when we go."

Greg nodded his head wisely, an effect that was ruined by his current choice in hairstyles, gelled bed head. "Something is definitely up with her."

Warrick looked at each of his coworkers in turn before fixing his gaze pointedly on Greg. "Hold up on the conspiracy theories there, Mulder. Sara just came back from a month of some well deserved R & R; she don't need you busting her chops about why she's in a good mood. She's entitled. Just be happy for her, and leave it at that."

With one last look directed at each of them, Warrick left Catherine, Nick, and Greg sitting in silence in the break room.

Catherine broke the silence.

"Warrick's right. We should just leave Sara alone." She looked at Nick, who nodded his head in agreement.

They both looked at Greg.

Looking like he was about to argue, Greg opened his mouth. Seeing the uncompromising expressions on Nick's and Catherine's faces, he promptly closed his mouth. Greg reluctantly nodded his head yes.


	5. Chapter 4

A/N: Many, many thanks to spunkysquared for betaing. For anyone that is interested, the cause of death is real; I got it from a journal article about crossbow deaths. I made up the histology stuff about frozen bullets.

**_

* * *

_**

**_Chapter 4_**

As Sara approached Grissom's office, her pace slowed until she stopped just outside the view of the open doorway. While Sara's anger at Grissom over his abandonment of her at their crime scene had dwindled, she was still confused as to the reasoning behind his actions. The fact that he had cut and run from the first crime scene they would have processed together since her return made his actions all the more unsettling.

Was it possible that Grissom had some problem with her return to work?

One month before, he had certainly seemed supportive of her decision to take some time off. He had also seemed supportive of her impending return to work when she had called the lab last week to confirm her return. Had he somehow changed his mind?

Sara sighed and rolled her shoulders in an effort to alleviate some of the tension that had built up there. Speculating on what Grissom may have been thinking was pointless, and had proven hazardous to her mental health in the past.

Anyway, it was possible that Grissom was just cranky tonight. Maybe that crankiness just happened to coincide with her first night back by shear coincidence.

Sara was a scientist. She knew that correlation did not prove causation. Just because this was her first night back didn't mean that that was the reason Grissom had acted as he had. Besides, if he was really concerned about her readiness to return to work, he wouldn't have let her work the scene at all, let alone by herself with only Greg to assist.

Deciding that if Grissom had a problem with her, he would just have to come out and say it, Sara took the last few steps that brought her to the doorway of Grissom's office. She refused to allow his actions and his attitude to affect her own, not anymore. Her mood was a good one. If Grissom's wasn't, well then, that was just too damn bad.

Unconsciously holding her head a tad bit higher, Sara marched into Grissom's office and took a seat at one of the chairs directly in front of his desk.

Grissom, himself, sat at his desk reading a file while quietly making notes on a yellow legal pad. His concentration on what he was doing was so absolute, it was questionable whether he was aware of Sara's presence.

Sara crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair. With her elbows resting lightly on the armrests, she laced her fingers together and laid her hands in her lap. She was content to wait.

As she waited, Sara took the opportunity to study Grissom, trying to determine his current mood. She soon gave up. It was impossible to tell anything, her view being severely limited due to Grissom's bent over posture and the low level of illumination coming from the solitary desk lamp.

While Grissom and his emotions remained veiled in shadows, Sara became increasingly aware of her own feelings. Deep, deep inside she still felt an attraction to this man. No, not attraction, Sara thought, shaking her head slightly. Attraction was too light a word, too simple. What she felt was not light at all, not simple at all. What she felt inhabited every particle of her being. It was present in every organ, every tissue, every cell; almost as if it had been encoded into her very DNA.

With all her education, Sara knew her ability to describe in words the depth and breadth of her feelings for Grissom was woefully inadequate.

Perhaps love came closest to what she felt, and yet love didn't seem special enough as a label. Love was too common a word. Sara loved the ocean and cookie dough ice cream. To say that she also loved Grissom seemed to her to be an understatement.

Sara bolted upright in her chair. God, she thought, what am I thinking? I promised myself; no more. No more thoughts like this, no more feelings. Not after the past few years, especially not after the past month. No more.

Sara opened her mouth, preparing to gain Grissom's attention, believing that work would help to keep out these forbidden thoughts.

Before Sara could utter a word, Grissom beat her to it. While he hadn't noticed Sara's entrance, her sudden straightening had registered on his peripheral vision and gave him the impression that she had just arrived.

"Hey, how did it go with Greg?" said Grissom, his voice almost chipper.

To Sara's surprise, Grissom's mouth had even curled up at the corners in an attempt at a smile. It was a rather pathetic attempt, but an attempt never the less.

Obviously, thought Sara, Grissom had managed to work his way out of whatever funk he had been in earlier.

Well, either that or he was repressing it.

"Greg did good," Sara replied, her voice containing more than a hint of surprise. "He took it more seriously than I would have thought. No joking, no goofing around. And any questions he asked were actually relevant. I gotta say, I was a little impressed at how far he's come while I was away. He just might make a good CSI after all."

Nodding, Grissom appeared satisfied and possibly even a little proud of Sara's performance evaluation of Greg. "He's worked very hard this past month. DNA lab's a little backed up, but with Greg's help we've been able to clear most of the incoming cases."

Grissom grimaced. "Though, I did have to pass off a few cases to day shift that we just didn't have the manpower for."

"Ouch! Bet Ecklie loved that. Well, I'm back now and I don't plan on leaving again any time soon."

"Good. This last month has proven just how much you're needed."

Grissom met and held Sara's gaze unblinkingly as she searched his eyes for evidence that his words held both a professional and personal meaning.

Seeing nothing to neither confirm nor deny her suspicions in his steady gaze, Sara delicately cleared her throat and looked away.

"Umm...Yeah, well, anyway...Greg's volunteered to go back to search the scene again later this afternoon. We didn't have luck finding any shell casings, but it's a big scene and a second look in daylight just might come up with something. But I'm thinking the shooter picked up after himself."

Grissom was silent and Sara could feel the intensity with which he was looking at her. When she made no effort to meet his eyes, he hesitated for another moment than spoke. "What evidence were you able to collect?"

"There wasn't much. The trail was trampled up pretty good by that herd of Girl Guides, but we were able to isolate a few partial bootprints. Looks like the killer wears a size eleven."

"Maybe not. We need impressions of the boots worn by the girls' chaperons before we can rule them out as having made the prints."

"No need. I called Brass. He said there were two chaperones; tallest was 5¢5². Prints definitely belong to the killer."

Grissom's whole body clenched momentarily when Sara said Brass' name, causing Sara to blink. By the time Sara's eyes had refocused on Grissom, his posture had relaxed again.

Sara squinted her eyes as she peered at Grissom, trying to detect whether he had indeed made some sort of movement. With a lack of repetition, she couldn't be certain and relegated the movement to a figment of her imagination.

Sara continued with her report. "The only other salient piece of evidence was a small pile of ashes about seven feet from the body. Unfortunately, it looks like it was a complete burn, whatever it was. I dropped the ashes off at trace. Hodges said he would get around to it, eventually."

Grissom nodded his head three times as he leaned forward, placing his hands palm down on his desk to give himself leverage as he pushed back his chair and stood up.

"Good," he said, rounding his desk and walking towards the door, "let's go."

Sara stood up and hurried out into the hallway to catch up to Grissom. "Go? Go where?"

"Morgue."

"The morgue?"

Silence greeted Sara's question.

"I thought you were there at the autopsy."

"I decided to wait."

"To wait? For what?"

"For you."

"Oh...Okay."

Sara continued down the hallway towards the morgue, glancing at Grissom repeatedly as he walked beside her. She was used to him being mysterious, but tonight, it seemed to her, he had moved beyond being mysterious. He was being weird.

As they reached the doors to the morgue, Grissom slowed so that he was a step or two behind Sara, allowing her to pass through first.

Inside the morgue were two bodies lying on stainless steel autopsy tables. The first, of indeterminable sex and age, was completely covered with a white sheet and next in line to go under the knife. The second body was that of the vic, Brian Oliver.

Brian Oliver had been a healthy male in his late fifties. His physique, with some of its tone lost to the passage of time, was still well muscled and hinted at a lifetime of athleticism. This, along with a sleek head of silver hair contrasting attractively with a deep natural tan, made it clear that Mr. Oliver had done better than just age gracefully.

Well, at least until he died a violent death in the woods.

Dr. Robbins stood over the body of Brian Oliver, facing the doorway while peering down intently into the gaping cavern of the man's open chest. Both of the doctor's gloved hands were inside the victim's chest, each holding a probe that pushed and prodded at the malleable tissues. To the outside observer it almost appeared as if a two handed chopstick technique was being utilized in order to snag some elusive, slippery prize.

"Hey Doc, long time no see."

Doctor Robbins looked up at the sound of Sara's voice, an easy smile on his face. "Much too long, I think." Robbins eyes briefly flicked to Grissom before they returned to settle on Sara. "You're looking good, Sara. Healthier, more relaxed." Sara and Grissom came to stand opposite Robbins, across the autopsy table.

Sara beamed. "Thanks." She looked down at Brian Oliver, her smile lessening. "Too bad the same can't be said of him."

Robbins looked down. "Yesterday, it probably could have."

Grissom spoke for the first time since entering the morgue. "And today?"

Looking up, Robbins said, "Today, Brian Oliver was the unfortunate victim of a sharp force trauma to the chest. Penetration of the upper left thorax; about 7 inches deep, at a slightly descending angle. Entrance at the fifth intercostal space at the front, through the left lung to the ninth intercostal. No exit wound."

"So, cause of death?"

"Exsanguination due to hematopneumothorax on the left side. In other words, he died from the accumulation of blood and air in the pleural cavity, the cavity that contains the lungs."

"Okay," said Sara, looking around, "where's the bullet?"

Robbins let out a heavy sign. "I don't know. I can't use an x-ray to look for it because the machine is undergoing it's yearly maintenance. So I've been searching the old fashioned way. But I haven't found it. Yet."

"You haven't found it?" Sara questioned, somewhat incredulously. "How long have you been looking?"

"About three and a half hours."

Sara and Grissom exchanged disbelieving looks before they both looked down into the open Y incision on the man's chest. "Maybe it's another frozen meat bullet," Grissom hypothesized.

"No, I doubt it," said Doc Robbins. "After the last one, I took it upon myself to study up on the phenomenon. There are a few obscure papers on the subject that have come out in recent years. All of them indicate that an in-depth histological examination of the tissues surround the wound tract of a frozen bullet will show a characteristic pattern of tissue injury and necrosis, even if death is instantaneous. I found no such pattern in any of his tissues."

Robbins, Grissom, and Sara all looked at one another. Sara spoke the question that was on all their minds.

"So if it didn't exit the body, and it isn't in the body, where's the bullet?"


	6. Chapter 5

A.N.: I started this fic long before anything was known about Sara's parents other than that they owned a B&B near San Fransisco, and changing it would have complicated my story way too much. Also, this and the following couple chapters are unbetaed as I am currently without beta. If anyone is interested, let me know. Sorry for the extremely long delay, but graduating University tends to make one busy.

**_

* * *

Chapter 5 _**

Oblivious to her surroundings, Sara walked beside Grissom down a hallway at CSI headquarters. She passed room after room filled with lab coat laden technicians without a single thought as to where she was and where she was heading.

Next to Sara, walking so close to her that his arm constantly brushed hers, Grissom was equally as oblivious. The minds of both investigators were completely preoccupied with contemplating the enigma bestowed upon them by Doctor Robbins not five minutes before.

Apparently, their murder victim had been shot with an invisible bullet. Or was it a disappearing bullet?

Whichever, thought Sara, not feeling the need to put too much stock into the hypothesis. It was an absurd notion really, not to mention quite impossible. Sure, it had been more than a few years since she had gotten her degree in theoretical physics, but Sara was pretty sure that if there had been any major alterations to the laws of physics after her graduation, she would have heard about it. As far as modern science was concerned, objects couldn't just disappear. It was a scientific impossibility. That bullet had to be somewhere.

Rounding another corner in the lab, Sara and Grissom came to an abrupt stop, barely avoiding a collision with Warrick and Greg. Nick, unfortunately, had had his head turned to catch something Warrick said, and he ran smack into Sara. The force of his momentum caused Sara to bounce back half a step before Nick's hands came up to grasp her upper arms and halt her movement.

"Whoa, hey! Where's the fire?"

Sara's eyes snapped up to Nick's, blinking twice in quick succession before focusing.

"Fire? What fire?"

Sara cocked her head slightly to the side in confusion, her brow crinkling momentarily before clearing with comprehension. "Oh, right!...Sorry, no fire. I was just thinking."

"Well, don't think so hard," Nick recommended as he gave her arms a light squeeze before letting go and standing back. "You could hurt yourself that way." Nick grinned; joking even though he knew it was his distraction that had caused the collision, not Sara's.

Sara joked right back. "You know this from experience, Nicky?"

"Hey, now!" Nick exclaimed, trying to look wounded even though he was smiling. "Be nice. I was just about to offer Greg's assistance in picking up the breakfast tab this morning. But now, you know, you just ruined it."

"Hey!" Greg said, leaning forward to glare at Nick. "I never said anything about paying!"

Warrick chuckled. "You didn't have to say anything, newbie. It was assumed."

"Damn!" Greg cursed. He shook his head ruefully, but a twinkle in his eyes belayed his pleasure over his newly endowed title. Cool. Newbie.

Reminded about breakfast, Sara looked at her watch to check the time. Surprised to see that shift had been over for ten minutes, Sara marveled at how the time had flown. She looked around at the guys and realized that, with the exception of Grissom, all of them had jackets on and looked like they were ready to head out of the lab. "You guys clocking out?"

Warrick answered for the three of them. "Yeah, we were just gonna find you first to see if breakfast was still on."

"Absolutely," Sara nodded her head in the affirmative. "Just let me get my stuff from my locker and make a quick run home, then I'll meet you there."

The guys nodded their heads and moved off down the corridor in the direction of the exit. Nick called back to Sara. "You better show up, Sidle. I order big when I know someone else is buying."

Grissom, who had remained silent throughout the whole exchange, watched the guys disappear around another corner in the lab. He turned to Sara and arched one eyebrow.

"Breakfast?"

"Yeah, my treat. Down at the diner. I think Catherine might be coming too."

Sara hesitated a split second before she asked, her voice slightly lower and huskier. "How about you?"

"Me?" Grissom questioned, evidently surprised Sara would ask him.

"Yes, you. You gonna come?"

Grissom's mouth was slightly parted as he looked deep into Sara's eyes, making her shiver involuntarily. He blinked and closed his mouth, swallowing once before speaking. "I, ah, I have about a month's worth of backlog paperwork I should get to." One side of his mouth quirked up, almost as if in apology.

Sara swiftly averted her gaze and nodded her head in understanding. She was disappointed at the prospect of Grissom's absence, and yet she was greatly relieved she wouldn't have to deal with his presence.

"Um, well, you probably won't miss much. I can't stay too long myself; I have a few errands I need to run before tonight."

"Errands?" Grissom questioned, his eyes going to Sara's averted face while his jaw clenched and unclenched. "For tonight?"

"Just some groceries I need to pick up," Sara replied. "I, ah, I guess I should get going."

Sara took off towards the locker room as Grissom watched. She paused at the doorway, looking back at Grissom. She kept her eyes on his bearded chin rather than meeting his eyes.

"Oh, hey, I almost forgot. One of the reasons I arranged breakfast is that I got gifts for everyone when I was visiting my parents. I left them at home, but I'm going to pick them up on my way to the diner. Since your not going to be there, I guess I'll, ah, I'll just give you yours some other time."

Grissom opened his mouth to speak, but didn't know what to say.

Sara continued in a rush. "It's nothing special, really, it's just something that made me think of you. I got a little something for everyone."

With that, Sara disappeared into the locker room.

An utterly confused Grissom was left stranded in the middle of the lab hallway, the traffic of the lab personnel ebbing and flowing around his stationary form.


	7. Chapter 6

**_Chapter 6_**

A sudden brisk knock on her apartment door diverted Sara's attention away from checking the time remaining on the loaf of bread currently rising in her new breadmaker. With a quick glance around her apartment to see if everything was in order, Sara swiftly made her way over to the door.

Even confident as she was that she knew the identity of her caller, habit had her checking her assumption via the small peephole located on her door. Satisfied, Sara took a step to the side so she could undo the chain.

She hesitated only long enough to breathe in and expel one deep breath. Swinging the door wide, Sara had no problem summoning a welcoming smile as she caught sight of a flower-bearing Jim Brass.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Sara and Brass stood looking at one another, their smiles as genuine as the slightly hesitant look in each of their eyes.

Sara shifted her weight from one leg to the other. "You came," she said.

"Yeah," replied Brass. Then he leaned in towards Sara as if to departing with some closely held secret. The volume of his voice almost at a whisper, Brass continued, "I thought that was the general idea of the invite."

Sara's smile widened in appreciation of Brass' attempt to lighten the mood, which had been swiftly moving towards awkward.

"Yes, yes it was."

Sara stepped back and beckoned Brass into her apartment with the wave of her hand. Brass, brave police detective that he was, stepped boldly over the threshold with no hesitation. He continued a few feet into the apartment as Sara closed the door behind him.

Swinging around to face Sara, Brass presented her with the bouquet of daisies he held in his hand.

"For you."

Sara hesitated for a second before taking the flowers from him. "Thanks, Brass, but you didn't need to get me anything."

Brass nodded his head wisely. "Yes, I did. Back in Jersey, my old man always told me that if I ever got my ugly mug invited anywhere by a beautiful woman, I damn well better not show up empty handed."

Sara laughed, even as her cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the complement. "I don't think this is quite what he was envisioning when he imparted that pearl of wisdom."

"Hey, this may not exactly be a _real_ date," protested Brass, letting Sara know he had no illusions of a romantic evening ahead, "but every man has the right to dream a little. Besides, I gotta flex my old moves every once in awhile so they don't get too rusty."

"Moves?" smirked Sara, "_You_ had moves? I'm almost compelled to ask what they were, but I think ignorance is definitely bliss in this case. I don't think my constitution is strong enough to deal with that knowledge…And just how do you know this isn't a _real_ date?"

"Uh oh," Brass sighed in an exaggerated fashion, "I was afraid this would happen. You're 'Joansing for Jim.' Don't worry about it; I have this effect on a lot of women of the female persuasion. You're not the first one to have it 'Bad for Brass.' Really, it was bound to happen sooner or later."

Sara stood staring at Brass in open-mouthed wonder for a few seconds before she almost choked on the laughter that started pouring out of her mouth. Brass, whose expression up until that point had been a pretense of serious contemplation, couldn't no longer hold back a mischievous smirk.

His smirk soon bloomed into a full blown, cheek splitting smile as Sara continued to laugh uncontrollably. Bent over slightly with her arms wrapped tightly around her waist to help combat the shudders racking her slender body, Sara continued to laugh until tears started streaming down her face.

It took a few minutes for Sara to regain both her breath and her composure, but the effort was wasted when she looked back up at Brass. The wiggle of his eyebrows, accompanied by a wink, set her off again. This time Brass joined her in the laughter.

When the laughter eventually subsided this time, Sara was partially supporting herself with a firm grip on Brass's right arm with her left hand. Both grinning, Sara and Brass looked at one another with merriment in their eyes. On impulse, Sara stepped forward and hugged Brass. With one arm curled around his back, the other up over his shoulder, and her chin tucked behind the opposing shoulder, Sara whispered into Brass' ear, "Thanks, I didn't know how much I needed that." Sara's voice cracked as she finished her sentence, tears once again forming in her eyes.

Brass, who had been caught offguard by the sudden hug and so had not responded, couldn't help but put his arms around Sara when he heard the break in her voice and felt the slight shudder that went through her frame. He cautiously ran his big hands up and down her back in what he hoped was a soothing manner as he whispered to her, "Hey..Hey…It's alright...It's okay." He repeated this refrain over and over until Sara leaned back away from him, wiping her eyes with her hand, her head lowered.

When Sara attempted to take a step backwards, away from Brass, he kept a hand loosely on her waist and put another hand on her shoulder to keep her from running away. When Sara's head remained down, Brass rubbed her shoulder and stated firmly, one last time, "It's okay."

Sara nodded her head and finally looked up at Brass. She tilted her head slightly and gave him a small, weak smile. "Thanks."

Brass nodded his own head as he replied, "Yeah, well, you've had a tough year. If anyone deserves to let go a little, it would be you. I just glad I could be here for you." Brass let his arms drop to his sides.

Sara smiled her appreciation for his words of comfort, then her smile dissipated. Her eyes held more than a hint of vulnerability and hesitancy as she looked searchingly into his eyes. "I wasn't too sure you'd still feel that way. The last time you tried to look out for me, I wasn't exactly 'cooperative.'" The corners of her mouth briefly quirked upward at the memory.

Brass nodded wisely. "Maybe you just weren't ready."

Sara toke a deep breath and then spoke before she lost her nerve. "I'm ready now. And I think I could use a good friend."

Brass replied without hesitation and with complete conviction.

"You have one."


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

With her back against the wall, Sara secretively peered around the corner adjacent to the trace lab. Catching sight of Hodges just as he was about to turn around and look in her direction, Sara quickly whipped her head back around the corner and let it rest against the wall behind her.

If there was ever a day when she just didn't want to deal with Hodges, today was the day. It wasn't that she couldn't handle any of the acerbic things that had a tendency to come out of his mouth, she knew that she could, it was just that she was in such a good mood. It really was a shame to have to ruin it by going into trace to get her report on the pile of ashes from her woodland murder from Hodges. And there was no doubt in her mind that interacting with Hodges would ruin her good mood.

Hodges was just talented that way.

As Sara took a deep breath and, squaring her shoulders, bravely stepped around the corner towards trace, she couldn't help feel a rush of pleasure at the thought of the source of her soon to be gone good mood. Who knew that Brass could be such a charming and entertaining dinner companion? She certainly hadn't been expecting it.

Brass had enthralled her with the unbelievable tales of all the insanely dumb criminals he had encountered in his many years as a cop in both Jersey and Vegas. Even now, Sara couldn't help but smile at the memory of some of those stories. She couldn't believe that someone would actually rob a store wearing a hockey jersey with their name embroidered on the back. And then there was the one where the bank robber robbed his own bank by pushing a note he had written on the back of one of his own cheque. One of his own personalized cheques, with his name and address in prominent view.

With a smile firmly entrenched on her face and her thoughts elsewhere, Sara made it all the way to the doorway of the trace lab before she realized that Hodges was nowhere to be seen. Sara stopped momentarily due to the unexpectedness of the situation she now found herself in, before she realized that this was her chance. Swiftly moving across the lab, Sara was able to find her trace results in Hodges' 'Out' bin and exit trace in record time. Speeding away from the scene, Sara's smile got even bigger at the thought of her good fortune.

Slowing her pace a safe distance from trace, Sara began to glance over the report. Her mind, however, was still on the events of the night before. Her dinner with Brass had gone much better than she could possibly ever have hoped for. She had extended the invitation with the intention of thanking Brass for his previous attempt to reach out and help her when he was concerned about her drinking, and to ask for his support in her plan to get out and get a life. She had wanted his support so that she would have someone there to nudge her if she ever appeared to be back in her old rut at any point in her new found quest. Since he had already shown himself to be a good friend and had at least some idea of her old patterns that she was working so hard to change, Brass had seemed like the perfect choice for the role. And so Sara invited Brass over for dinner and told him of her plan, which at the moment basically consisted of getting out and enjoying the fact that she lives in a world famous tourist mecca. A mecca that she had only really seen from the inside of crime scene tape.

When presented with her request, however, Brass had surprised Sara with not only a pledge of support, but he had insisted that she utilize his services as alternately a tour guide to the city and companion to accompany her on her adventures. After all, Brass had reminded her, he had been in this city a lot longer than she had. She might as well take advantage of that.

Sara had gladly accepted his proposal. In fact, they had already planned their first outing.

Finishing up reading the trace report, Sara looked up to see that she had unconsciously made her way to Grissom's office. With the intention of reporting the findings of the report, Sara turned to go into the office when she heard her name called by a familiar voice.

"Sara, just the person I was looking for!"

Standing in the middle of the doorway, Sara smiled brightly and turned towards Brass, who had come up the hall behind her.

"Hey Brass!"

"Honey, I think I recall telling you to call me 'Jim' back at your apartment." Brass tilted his head at Sara. "Please don't tell me you don't remember. And here I thought our time together was special! But now, here we are less than six hours later, and you don't even remember my name." Brass shook his head ruefully as Sara chuckled.

"Sorry… Jim. It's just going to take a little getting used to, I guess. For years you've always been 'Brass'."

"Well, times change."

"Yes, they do." Sara gave Brass another smile then she held up the report in her hand. "Trace just came in; I was just about to update Grisssom."

Brass motioned towards the bugcave that was Grissom's office with one hand. "Good, I have an update of my own concerning the vic." Brass allowed Sara to precede him into the office, guiding her way with a light touch of his hand on the small of her back.

The two made their way over towards Grissom's desk where they sat down in the empty chairs available. Grissom, himself, was sitting behind his desk and had been there through their entire conversation, watching and listening from his front row seat.

With her eyes fixated back on the lab report she held in her hands, Sara didn't notice the shocked look of hurt and jealousy that was blossoming on Grissom's face as he looked at his visitors. Brass, however, did and sent a small, self-satisfied smirk in Grissom's direction. Grissom's eyes narrowed as he shifted his attention solely to Brass.

Sara, oblivious to the male posturing going on around her, began her report. "Trace report on the ashes found at the scene identified it as being pine. There were a few splinters of the wood intact, enough for the ID. No idea what the object burned was, though. And the wood doesn't appear to have been treated with anything."

Having completed her report, Sara looked up and was startled by the look Grissom was sending Brass' way. It almost looked like Grissom was glaring at Brass, but that couldn't be, could it?

Seeing Sara's look of confusion, followed by the opening of her mouth to no doubt question what was going on, Brass deliberately shifted her focus by starting his own report.

"The vic? Brian Oliver? He's local, been living out in Henderson for the past five years. Transplant from Canada. According to his neighbours, he lives alone…But, interesting enough, he's got three sons, all of whom are currently visiting dear old Dad. No one was home when I went out to the house, but I'm gonna head back out there later, see if they show." Brass hesitated a second then, suppressing a smirk when he saw that he was still the subject of Grissom's displeasure, turned to Sara and smiled. "You up for a road trip, later?"

Sara smiled back, glad to be included. "You bet!"

Sara and Brass sat there, smiling at one another, then Sara remembered something. Jumping up, she said, "Hey, Bra…Jim? Wait here, will you, I brought you the rest of the leftover cheesecake from dinner. I seriously can't eat anymore, and since you liked it so much, I brought the rest for you to have."

Before either Brass or Grissom could react, Sara had left the room and was on her way down the hallway towards the break room.

Brass turned and watched Sara until she was out of sight, a wide smile on his face. Turning back around, Brass saw that Grissom had been watching him watch Sara. He did not look happy.

Stirring the pot, Brass commented, "Boy does that girl have a lot of energy. She just keeps going and going…but then, she's hardly a girl, is she? Nope, Sara Sidle is definitely no girl."

Then Brass smiled and sat back to watch.

To his amazement Grissom's glare got even more severe as his ire rose, his face even going a slight red colour, like his collar was too tight. Knowing that he was about to be blasted in a second, Brass stood up and tossed over his shoulder as he made his way out the door, "I think I'll just go find Sara."

Brass walked down the corridor, fully aware of the death beams currently being shot into his back by Grissom, who he could feel was following him down the hall. He regulated his speed to keep Grissom from catching up with him and to stop him from lagging too far behind.

Brass grinned, this was just too much fun!

Just like dinner at Sara's had been fun. He was busting with pride over the control Sara had been taking over her life in the past month. And he was proud and humbled by the fact that she felt she could count on him for support. Especially when it appeared that he was the only one she had approached.

And Brass has every intention of helping Sara, just not only in the way that she thinks. Sure, he'll help her to see more of Vegas, and he'll be there as a friend when she needs one, but he also has a plan of his own.

He wants Sara to be as happy as she can possibly be, and for Sara he knows that happiness has to include Grissom in her new life. So that means it is up to Brass to make that happen.

Brass knew that Sara had been burned many times by Gil, and so he wasn't horribly surprised when it appeared that her desire to change her life included a denial of her feelings for Grissom. And denial it must be, Brass thought, for he knew that Sara wasn't the type of person who could just stop caring for someone at the drop of a hat. Yet, he had seen the intent way in which Grissom had looked at Sara on her first night back, before she had made her unexpected dinner invite. Grissom had been much more obvious and open in his attitude towards her. Sara had no doubt seen it too, observant CSI that she was, and yet she had acted like nothing was different. Her feelings for Gil must be one of the ruts that she had mentioned to Brass that she didn't want to get stuck back in. She hadn't said it, of course, but Brass considered himself an intuitive guy.

And so he had cleverly concocted a plan of his own. One that involved motivating Grissom to make a move on Sara, one so decisive that she couldn't possible ignore or deny it. And the best way to do that, Brass had decided, was to make Grissom think he was putting the moves on Sara himself. In his profession he'd certainly seen what a motivator jealousy could be, and it was about time Grissom got a much needed kick in the pants. And Brass was only too happy to oblige. After all, he had been witness to the awkward geek mating dance that had been going on between Gil and Sara for the past five years, same as everyone else. It was damn irritating. Everyone thought so, but no one wanted to say anything.

And neither will I, thought Brass, I wont say anything either, especially not to Sara. I'll just do my thing and hope that she doesn't catch on until after Grissom finally acts on these feelings he's harbouring for her. After that, she'll be so happy, she'll forgive me.

No problem, Brass reminded himself, it would never cross her mind in a million years that Grissom would be jealous of me, especially when there is nothing romantic going on between us. Piece of cake.

And with that thought, Brass made his way into the break room, his eye on the container in Sara's hand as she rose from her crouch in front of the community fridge. Earnestly licking his lips in anticipation of his treat, Brass moved to Sara's side and took the container from her. Peeling back the lid to peak inside, Brass let out a groan of pleasure, "Sara, honey, this is surely a little piece of heaven right here on earth."

Conscious of their audience behind him consisting of one disgruntled entomologist, Brass leaned forward and kissed a blushing Sara on her cheek. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," a surprised and flustered Sara replied. She flicked her glance in question towards Grissom, who had been standing quietly frozen in the doorway. Seeing this look, Grissom finally moved, slowly making his way over to the coffee pot to pour himself a cup. Once he had his coffee, Grissom remained at the counter, staring at the wall and sipping absentmindedly from his mug.

Knowing full well that Grissom was listening in on their conversation, Brass inquired of Sara, "So, are we still on for Thursday?"

Sara's reply was delayed by the beeping of her pager. Unclipping it from her belt, she glanced at it before turning back to Brass. "Greg needs my help. But, yeah, we're still on." Sara chuckled, "Are you really taking me to the Liberace Museum?" She moved to exit the break room.

"Of course," Brass replied, grinning, "Nothing says Vegas like Liberace. Besides on Thursdays they have a 'musical tribute to Liberace.' I've been told it's a must see. If it's not, I promise to keep you entertained with my wit and charm." At this Grissom choked on the coffee in his mouth while Sara's laughter carried back into the break room as she moved down the corridor away from them.

Brass patted Grissom on the back as he passed by on his own way towards the door. "Gil, my old friend, I think that went really well." As he passed through the doorway, Brass could have sworn he heard Grissom growl at him. Probably just clearing his throat, Brass thought.

Leisurely strolling down the lab hallway, Brass congratulated himself on a job well done. Laughing, Brass considered how much fun this was going to be, after all it wasn't often he got the chance to pull something over on Grissom. Besides, Brass told himself, it's for Grissom's own good.


End file.
